


Inventrix

by Desiderii



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:01:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1584263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desiderii/pseuds/Desiderii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A steampunk AU where Gwen is a genius inventor, Merlin is her housemate, and the Lady Morgana is the one footing the bill... if only Gwen can prove she isn't just wasting all the money being funneled into her inventions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inventrix

**Author's Note:**

> For the [BBCMerlinFest](http://bbcmerlinfest.tumblr.com/) Week 2, Day 5: Gwen-centric AU.
> 
> Unbetaed and unrepentant.

Gwen had been doomed from the start.

Such was her attitude as she stared at the sodden heap of iron and gold that presented her greatest challenge to date. Her father, rest his soul, had encouraged her when scientific and philosophical pursuit was the purview only of the extra progeny of the landed gentry. Though she was but a guildman’s only daughter, the elder Tom had determined that her keen mind should not be wasted, and with his forge and technical know-how, had helped Gwen start upon her current futile path. 

The hind compartment billowed steam and blue smoke, the puddle soaking into the bare dirt of her workshop floor. Her bucket dribbled the last of its contents onto the leg of her coveralls while the flames from her shorted generator quieted. She slumped back against her worktable in despair. 

She could not place blame entirely upon her father, however. Her mother, too, had provided inspiration and means before her passing by way of hot meals and engineering lessons supported by a laundress’s wage. Even her brother - as rakish and prone to misfortune though he was - delivered to her odds and ends that invariably made their way into her inventions, though she was careful never to ask their provenance.

As the contraption at her feet whirred sadly to an ignoble death, she nudged the sparking thing with her foot. 

“Merlin!” she wailed. Discarding the bucket, she stepped around her failed creation and called up the stairs. “Merlin! Check to see if the Lady Morgana is at the door as yet.”

Gwen took the muffled response she received to be the affirmation she was listening for and returned to the pile of now-useless parts. 

She sighed down at her former feat of brilliance just at is settled into a slightly flatter pile with a wheeze. It was to have been a walking machine designed to handle both cobbles and countryside, driven by an electric engine powerful enough to propel machine and rider uphill. It was a mad idea, all told. Locomotive machinery used wheels. There were problems of balance, otherwise, and foot placement depending on the terrain, and of course catching on fire. 

How could she have forgotten spontaneous combustion, of all things? Though— her lament was tempered by the empty bucket resting against the leg of her worktable. She had prepared, no matter that the sparking short had caught her by surprise. 

All her patronness wanted was to see proof that Gwen’s idea might be worthy of an assembly line and the only requirement for proof was working prototype.

Except that now Gwen’s working prototype, and it _had_ been working, laid inoperable in the mud and the Lady Morgana was expected at any—

“Troubles, Miss Guinevere?” came the crisply amused tones from the stairwell. 

Gwen’s eyes flew wide and she turned a panicked look upon the man peering down from the upper floor at her. “Merlin! You weren’t to let her in.” 

“I thought you were ready! I thought that’s what ‘check to see if the Lady is at the door’ meant,” Merlin protested. “You didn’t specify.”

“I meant for you to stall her,” Gwen said, dropping her voice to a fierce whisper as though the Lady Morgana were not standing between her and her conspirator. “Couldn’t you smell the smoke?”

Merlin stared at her and let his shoulders slump in exasperated melodrama. Shaking his head, he pressed his lips together.

In response, Gwen thrust her hands out, palms up, in a silent query of _‘What the nine circles of Hell were you thinking?’_

Merlin’s sharp wave toward their guest recalled Gwen to herself. 

“Oh, I am- I was just just- You’ll have to forgive-” Flustered, Gwen cut herself off and let out her breath. “Please accept my apologies, but I fear I shall have to postpone my demonstration.” 

Rather than annoy her, the volley between the Gwen and Merlin only appeared to amuse the Lady Morgana. “I can see that,” she said, brows arched. She swept the rest of the way down the stairs with apparent unconcern that the rough planking might catch her skirts. Her boots squelched into the newly formed mud at the bottom. “Though I admit to my disappointment. I hoped that I might renew my patronage had you something interesting to show me.” 

The implication that she might soon be destitute sent a thrill of panic down Gwen’s spine. She exhaled heavily and scrubbed her hair back from her face as if pushing the strands back might allow her to spot some way to escape her predicament. Without the estates of a highborn to cover expenses, she had little option but a patron’s grace to fund her invention. Desperation loosed her tongue. “My little walking machine has been back and forth across the workshop all morning in preparation for your visit. Would that you had been ten minutes earlier.” 

“Are you suggesting that I arrived late?” Lady Morgana asked, coming to a halt at Gwen’s side so they both might observe the ruin of the walking machine.

In horror, Gwen snapped her head around and backed away. She nearly tripped over Morgana’s skirt in her haste. The failed walking machine crunched beneath her heel. “Of course not, no. _No_ , that’s not what I meant at all- I just meant-” 

The Lady Morgana reached for her and her outstretched fingers brushed lightly at Gwen’s shoulder. Though her smile was sharp, her eyes were kind. “I am merely teasing you. Please. Show me what you can and then we’ll discuss.”

Gwen froze and held Lady Morgana’s gaze for long enough to judge her sincere. “That I can do,” she finally replied, casting a glance up toward where Merlin still hovered just within sight at the top of the stairs. If nothing else, she could accept Morgana’s olive branch though it seemed too slender to truly keep her from drowning. Reorienting herself, Gwen pulled her boot from the mangle of metal and tried to recover via courtesy. 

“If Merlin will find the refreshment platter I prepared and bring it down to us,” she said, overloud for the benefit of their eavesdropper. A scuff of boot on the landing above indicated that Merlin took the hint. Almost the instant he disappeared, however, a thought to her housemate’s appetite struck her and Gwen hollered, “ _Intact_! Bring it down intact!” 

Lady Morgana lowered her hand from the ear nearest Gwen and asked, “Are all alchemists as flighty as that one?”

Both she and Lady Morgana winced at the thud and scrape of involuntarily rearranged furniture. Gwen pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead, wincing again at the muffled call of ‘I’m fine’. 

“I haven’t the foggiest. He’s the only one I’ve ever met.” Gwen threw a small smile at the Lady.

“Perhaps that’s just as well,” Lady Morgana said, a thoughtful look on her face. A moment later, however, she dusted the wool from her thoughts and reverted to business. “Now, your walking machine? If you would, Miss Guinevere.” 

With a firm nod, Gwen rolled up her metaphorical sleeves and dropped to poke in the mud at her machine. There might still be a way to recover from both the disaster of the short circuit and her gaffe in insulting her patroness. If nothing else, Merlin’s deliberate lack of grace had give her and Lady Morgana a common topic to speak on. 

She glanced up at Lady Morgana to make sure she had her attention before pointing into the machine’s (in)conveniently exposed innards. “When it’s not a soggy bit of metal, this here drives the central rotating leg shaft—” Gwen began. She could only hope she might salvage her machine and the situation both. Though, from the look of furrowed concentration on the Lady’s face, Gwen thought she just might have a chance.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [Desiderii-fic](http://desiderii-fic.tumblr.com) or [FandomEntanglement](http://fandomentanglement.tumblr.com) :)


End file.
